Sorrows come tumbling down: A Jumbly Tale

I have a friend who tells stories… Actually, I have many, but this one has special tales about, among others, the Jumbly Man. This one suits the somberness of my mood at the moment. There’s more to this one, so hop over and follow so you don’t miss the next installment.

time for stories

Let me tell you a story

Once, the Jumbly Man was returning from washing his woes, striding along, deep in thought. It was coming close to night and he began to look about for a camp.

As the sun gave the trees ever longer shadows, he saw a she-oak that would provide shelter and fallen needles, a comfortable place to rest. As he came closer he saw a figure huddled to the side of the tree. It appeared to be a small woman, huddled in on herself. He called out a jumbly greeting, saw a flash of a face full of fear as she scrambled to her feet, trying to stumble away.

Jumbly could see she was hurt. In a few long strides, he reached her and caught her under her elbows before she tumbled. The woman whimpered and cowered away from him. He jumbled soothing sounds at her and…

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